


Confessions

by Geesehaveteeththatisterrifying



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 6th years, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Amortentia, Fluff, Harry Potter AU, Keith/Lance - Freeform, M/M, Pidge is a match maker, Slytherin!Pidge, Voltron Harry Potter AU, a lot of fluff, gryffindor!lance, klance, quidditch captains, slytherin!keith, there will be more chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geesehaveteeththatisterrifying/pseuds/Geesehaveteeththatisterrifying
Summary: Keith is in his 6th year at Hogwarts, and Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Lance happens to be captain of the Gryffindor team. There will be a lot of fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Keith sat with his head down, at the Slytherin table, his black hair falling in front of his eyes. All around him, the Great Hall was filled with excited students, receiving their first post of the year. He watched resentfully as a tawny owl swooped down to the Gryffindor table, several fat parcels clutched in its beak and claws. It landed in front of a tall skinny boy with brown hair and an annoyingly cocky smirk. Keith knew this boy all too well – he was his fellow prefect, Lance McClain. Lance could always be relied on to receive letters and parcels every week – it was well known that he had an extensive family back home.  
This could not have been further from the truth for Keith. Keith had never known his parents – as a child, he had been passed from foster home to foster home, a second hand kid that nobody ever wanted for very long. Honestly, words could not have described Keith’s excitement when, at eleven years old, he received the unexpected letter written on thick parchment telling him he had secured a place at a magical school.  
It was safe to say that everybody who attended Hogwarts was out of the ordinary – they were all children who wielded magic. However, even amongst them Keith felt like a misfit. He didn’t know his parents, his history – he didn’t even know his blood status. He had no siblings and no family to speak of.  
These thoughts had put Keith in rather a down mood for so early in the morning. Keith spooned the last of his cereal into his mouth, his eyes flicking back up to Lance at the table across the Hall. He was now showing off to his friends by attempting to throw lucky charms into his mouth. Keith sighed, and flicked his black hair out of his eyes in annoyance. This noise made Pidge look up from the book they’d had been absorbed in until this point: Advanced Potion Making.  
“What’s up?” Pidge asked, pushing their glasses back up their nose with one finger.  
“Nothing,” Keith sighed, trying to inject some warmth he didn’t feel into his words – he didn’t want his best friend to suffer from his bad mood. “Come on, we’ll be late for potions.” He swung his legs off the bench, pulling the strap of his bag onto one shoulder. He stood impatiently, tapping his foot as Pidge stuffed the enormous book back into their bag. Together, they walked out of the Great Hall, Keith resisting the urge to turn back to see whether Lance and his friends were following; after all, Gryffindors and Slytherins did have potions together.  
It was a day of beautiful October weather – sunlight streamed in through the main doors, bathing the Entrance Hall in warm light. Keith and Pidge, however, directed their steps towards the gloomy passage that sloped ominously down to the dungeons were potions was held. Their footsteps echoed in the darkness, lit only by the flickering torches that lined the walls.  
The two weren’t the first into the dim potions classroom: some fellow Slytherins were already setting up in a corner of the room. Keith motioned towards an empty desk, and he and Pidge headed towards it, dumping their stuff onto the floor next to their chairs and dragging their cauldrons onto the desk. A loud rabble of footsteps and voices drew Keith’s attention to the heavy oak door – of course it was Lance and his friends who entered, obnoxiously noisy as usual. Keith noticed Pidge roll their eyes, already flipping through their copy of Advanced Potion making again – its stay in their bag had been very brief.  
Moments later, Professor Slughorn waddled into the room, his bald head shiny and a genuine grin plastered across his round face. The bottons on his tweed waistcoat strained as he breathed in happily, surveying his class.  
“Ho-Ho! Do I have a treat for you today class! We’ll be brewing up something really special – although it will be challenging, I’ll tell you that right now!” He boomed jovially. Keith’s stomach sank – potions was one of his worst performing subjects, even in lessons where what they were brewing was not particularly difficult. Pidge’s eyes, however, gleamed behind their glasses – he could tell his friend was yearning for the chance to perfect a difficult potion. His eyes flicked to Lance, who was pretending to look bored and winking at a Gryffindor girl whose name Keith did not know. The girl blushed. Keith rolled his eyes. He was not fooled by Lance’s outwardly flirtatious attitude – he knew deep down that Lance was actually a total nerd and was probably just as excited as Pidge to find out what todays potion was going to be.  
“I won’t keep the suspense any longer – today, you’re all going to be attempting to brew Amortentia.” There were groans from a few of the students – mostly boys. No one needed to be told what Amortentia was – thanks to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, a joke shop that had been set up a few years previously – everyone knew that Amortentia was a popular type of love potion.  
“Now, now, now, come on!” Slughorn responded to the groans, beaming round at his class, “Love is an extremely dangerous and powerful weapon! Why just a few of years ago a student was brought to me who had been drugged by it and let me tell you, that incident did not end well – in fact, it ended with a bezoar being shoved down his throat. But let’s not get into that now,” he said hastily, as many student showed signs of astonished interest. “You will find instructions on the board. I wish you all the best of luck,” he said, flicking his wand and indeed causing the step-by-step instructions to appear there in messy joined up writing.  
There was a collective surge of loud scraping and banging from around the room as chairs were dragged back and ingredients dumped onto tables. Keith squinted at the writing on the board – the Professor hadn’t been lying, the instructions did look extremely difficult to follow. Keith looked hopefully towards Pidge, who was usually the top of the class in potions – however even they were scratching their head in confusion.  
The lesson passed in a blur of determination, confusion, mild panic, and finally resignation to the inevitable. Keith’s potion had not turned out well. Whereas it was described as having a ‘mother-of-pearl sheen’ in his textbook, his had gone a disturbing colour of blood red. A glance at Pidge’s showed him that theirs had turned a weird bogey green colour. Their hair was standing on end, the violently smelling fumes turning it frizzier by the second. He glanced across the room, curious to see how Lance’s had gone – as it turned out, not any better than theirs. His had become a sort of inky blue. Keith felt a small smile tugging at his mouth – at least he was not the only one who seemed to have failed this particular assignment.  
Slughorn was waddling around the room, looking significantly crest-fallen. He scanned the room until he found the table that Pidge was sat and, and began hopefully making his way over, clearly expecting something good. However, he was disappointed – even they had not been able to conquer the difficult concoction. His face fell, as he returned to the front of the class.  
“Well class, don’t be disheartened, this was an immensely difficult task for you all. I have some here at the front that has been correctly brewed, and I want you each to come up to observe what it is supposed to look like.  
Even from the back of the room, Keith could see the steam rising from the cauldron in characteristic spirals, creating shapes that looked suspiciously like a flying broomstick to him – unsurprising as he did have an intense love of Quidditch.  
“Come on up, I’m sure you’re all interested in what unique smell the potion holds for you. Remember, it smells differently to us all depending on what we love most!”  
There was a low rumbling as every chair in the room scraped back. Keith and Pidge jostled into the queue, somehow ending up (to Keith’s mild annoyance) directly behind Lance and his friends. The queue slowly shuffled forward as one by one the students stuck their faces over the enticing aromas of the potion, and inhaled deeply. Eventually it got to Lance’s turn. His friend had already had his go and was waiting for him to walk back to their seats. Keith noticed Lance close his eyes as he breathed in the steam deeply, his expression serene. He paused, extremely still for a moment, before pulling his face back and turning away. Keith heard his friend whisper something to Lance, and tilted his head to listen.  
“It’s no big secret what you must’ve smelled, is it Lance?” he snickered quietly.  
“Shut up,” Lance hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. Did Keith imagine it, or did Lance’s eyes briefly flick up to meet his own? The moment passed quickly, as Lance and his friend shouldered past him back to their seats, their voices returned to their usual loud pitch. Keith shook his head. He had clearly imagined it.  
He quickly looked back towards the potion, which Pidge was now bending eagerly over. They straightened back up, grinning, and slapped his shoulder as they headed back to their seat. Keith stepped towards it and closed his eyes, taking the same approach as Lance as he bent over it. The first smell that hit him was a combination of the woody smell of his broomstick, and fresh cold air, mixing to remind him strongly of Quidditch. He also smelt something which reminded him of the Halloween feast in the Great Hall, his favourite night of the year – a combination of rich buffet food, pumpkins and candle wax. As he breathed slowly in through his nose, he registered a third smell – it reminded him of the shampoo he knew Lance used. He had smelt it most days for over five years, every time Lance brushed past him in the corridor or flew past him on the pitch. Keith straightened up quickly. He could feel his face growing red even though, he reminded himself, no one else knew what he had been able to smell. Trying not to look guilty, he made his way hastily back to his seat, his face still feeling hot. Pidge raised an eyebrow at him as he approached, looking sceptically at his awkward expression.  
The rest of the lesson seemed to drag by to Keith, but in reality it was only a few more minutes before the bell sounded throughout the castle. The fact that Keith and Pidge’s table was right at the back of the room meant that they were the last two to leave the dungeon. Pidge placed a hand on Keith’s arm as they reached the door.  
“Hey, are you okay? You seemed to go a little funny there for a second,” they said.  
“I’m fine,” Keith muttered, shrugging off their hand as he searched for a change of subject. “What happened to you, anyway?” Keith asked, a smirk spreading across his mouth, “I thought you were meant to be top of the class?”  
Pidge groaned in response. “I don’t even want to talk about it,” they said, beginning again to walk towards the door, their hair still three times its normal volume.

*

It was later that week, and the familiar feeling or nervousness and anticipation was building inside Keith’s stomach. The next day would hold Slytherin’s first match of the school year – against Gryffindor. As team captain, he was anxious to find his team mates. He needed to tell them that he wanted to meet extra early the next morning, in order to run over their tactics one last time. It was vital that they won this match; the fact that they played only three games a year meant that loosing even one could seriously harm a house’s chances of winning the Quidditch Cup.  
Pidge was curled up in an arm chair next to the fire – a book clasped in their hands as always, and oblivious to Keith’s concerned pacing.  
The familiar sound of a section of the common room wall scraping back filled the Dungeon, signalling that someone had given the correct password and was entering. Keith looked up hopefully and was rewarded by just the person he wanted to see: it was his fellow sixth year and teammate, Nyma. She was a tall, strongly muscled girl whose yellowy blonde hair was constantly tied in high bunches. He hastily made his way across the long, low ceilinged room to meet her. Her expression was one of excited determination as they held their brief discussion about the events of tomorrow, then she bayed Keith good night as she headed towards the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.  
Keith rubbed at his eyes wearily. When he drew his hands away, he was surprised to see that the common room was practically deserted. Checking his watch quickly, he discovered that it was past eleven o’clock. The captain really needed a decent night’s sleep if his team were to stand a chance of defeating Gryffindor tomorrow. He headed towards the stairs up to the dormitories, ruffling Pidge’s hair as he passed. They glanced up at him angrily, batting his arm away.  
“I’m going up to bed, it’s late. You coming?” Keith asked. He watched as Pidge checked their own watch, and sighed with resignation.  
“I guess,” they said, swinging their legs out from under them and scooping their books into their arms. Both heading for the dorms, Pidge was struck with a sudden thought.  
“You know, I reckon I’d be able to go up the stairs to both dorms without them turning into slides. You know, if I wanted to.”  
A grin spread across Keith’s face, as he contemplated this. “I’m sure you would be able to.”  
“I’ll try it one day,” his friend replied, for now trooping towards the girl’s stairs. Keith sighed inwardly. He was currently the only person Pidge had come out to about being non-binary.  
“Goodnight!” he called, smiling sadly after them. Pidge waved one hand over their shoulder without turning around. His thoughts back to Quidditch, Keith turned and trooped up the steps to his own familiar dormitory. 

*

At a quarter to eight the next morning, Keith’s ears were filled with the sound of his ringing alarm clock. Slamming his hand on it quickly so as not to wake the other inhabitants of his dormitory, he pulled back the curtains of his four-poster, clambered quietly out of bed, and stretched. He ran is hands through his hair in a vain attempt to flatten the tangled black mess, before giving up and reaching for his kit.  
Once dressed, he traipsed down the cold stairs and across the stone flagstones of the common room, his face lit by the ghostly, pale glow of the green-tinged lamps that lined the walls. Keith often felt slightly unnerved by the position of his common room underneath the lake. For him, being high up in the air was much preferable to being underground.  
On his way up to the Great Hall, Keith passed the Head Girl who was heading in the other direction, a dark-skinned, seventh-year Ravenclaw by the name of Allura. Keith smiled sheepishly at her as they passed. Their only previous run-in had not been pleasant; she had, in fact, caught him sneaking around the castle out of hours whilst doing her nightly rounds. That incident had ended with a serious number of house points being deducted from Slytherin.  
She continued past, throwing a slightly strained smile in his direction. Keith released a breath he had not known he’d been holding, despite the fact that he was (currently) doing no rule breaking.  
Once inside the Great Hall, Keith took his usual place at the Slytherin table. The large room was, as you’d expect for eight am on a Saturday, quiet. Dotted around the room sat a handful of sleepy looking seventh-years, clearly up and working early to cope with the immense workload Hogwarts students received in their final year. Apart from them it was largely empty – Keith was the first of his team to arrive. He pulled a couple of slices of toast towards him, and glanced up at the large windows across the hall – the weather looked like it was going to be extremely clear; it was a crisp October day without a single cloud in the sky. From Keith’s experience, these would be quite difficult conditions to fly in. It would be tricky to avoid being blinded by the sun, especially for him. As the seeker, his role was to find and catch the immensely small golden ball known as the snitch which is difficult even on a good day, never mind in intense sunlight.  
Still, Keith was not worried. He knew for a fact that he was a superior flyer to the opposing seeker. And this was not Keith being cocky; it was a widely known and accepted fact. Flying talent like the likes of him was rarely seen at Hogwarts.  
However, this match, he was in a slight predicament. The Gryffindor Captain, and Keith’s opposing seeker, happened to be Lance McClain. Last night, Keith had lain awake in bed, sternly repeating to himself that he would not allow this fact to distract him. He had still not forgotten the incident with the Amortentia earlier in the week, but was refusing to think anything of it. He had even come up with some theories that maybe it wasn’t the potion he had smelt; after all, Lance had been standing in that exact spot only a few moments before. That was surely the reason he had been able to smell him.  
It was at that moment that Lance and his fellow Gryffindor teammates burst through the doors into the Great Hall. Keith took one look at him, decked out in his red and gold kit, his brown hair swept messily across his forehead. Shit. Not being distracted by him was going to be harder than he’d thought.  
Luckily he was rescued from these dangerous thoughts shortly by the arrival of his team. Soon he was surrounded by an encouraging blur or green and silver. Once everyone had finished eating second (or third) helpings of breakfast, the Hall had grown a lot fuller by the arrival of most of the school, all producing an excited babble in light of the oncoming match. Gulping down his rising nerves, Keith dragged a look of stoic determination onto his face and motioned to his team to follow him out of the hall. Pidge, who had arrived a few minutes earlier, waved him off with an encouraging thumbs up. Keith knew it wouldn’t be long before Pidge headed down to the pitch too, as they would be commentating for the Quidditch matches this year.  
The walk down to the pitch, though short, was enough to clear Keith’s head. The brisk, cool wind cleared away any doubts and real excitement kicked it; it wouldn’t be long now before he would be engulfed in the thrill of the match. They soon reached the changing rooms. Those of the team that weren’t already in their kits quickly pulled them on whilst Keith gave the rest of the team his talk on tactics that he had mentioned to Nyma the previous evening. By the time he had finished conveying every little detail in their strategy that he had changed, a roar could be heard from all directions, indicating a rapidly filling stadium. Keith glanced around at the faces of his team. They all looked eagerly enthusiastic, apart from his two new additions to the team, a couple of fourth years, who both looked slightly green.  
Keith set his jaw, scooped his broomstick off the bench next to him and shoved open the door that led from the changing room onto the pitch. The seven players trooped out to deafening roars coming from the Slytherin stand, and some applause also coming from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stands. The Head Boy Shiro, who happened to be one of Keith’s close friends, could be heard cheering for the Slytherin team amongst the sea of Hufflepuff students. He glanced up at the commentating podium and saw the familiar mess of short brown hair that belonged to his best friend.  
“And here come the Slytherins, led of cause by their Captain, Kogane, who has made a couple of changes to last year’s team…” Pidge’s voice was amplified throughout the stadium.  
Across the pitch, Keith could see the Gryffindor team emerging from their changing room, to tumultuous applause from their stand - led, of course, by Lance, broomstick over his shoulder. Pidge’s voice could be heard introducing them to the pitch.  
Madam Hooch was waiting for them in the very centre, a crate containing the four balls open at her feet. Keith glanced down at the snitch, sitting still and peaceful in the open box. He wasn’t fooled – as soon as Madam Hooch set it loose it was capable of flying at immense speeds.  
“Captains, shake hands,” Madam Hooch said, whistle already dangling from her mouth. Keith’s attention snapped up onto Lance. He was approaching him, hand outstretched. For the first time Keith had ever seen Lance looked a bit - nervous? He reached out his hand and firmly shook Keith’s, gripping it tightly. His fingers tingled at the brief contact. Lance smiled at him, his eyebrows raised.  
“Good luck,” he said his tone full of confidence, though his features still looked nervous.  
“Right back at you. I’m sure you’ll need it more than us,” Keith said, motioning confidently to his team behind him with a grin.  
“We’ll see. May the best team win,” Lance said cheerfully, throwing a wink at Nyma who stood on Keith’s left. Keith scowled irritably, annoyed both by Lance’s audacity to flirt with members of his team, and by how good he looked doing it.  
“Mount your brooms,” came Madam Hooch’s voice again, slurred as she talked around her whistle. Keith swung one leg over his broom, anxious to be up in the air. At the sound of her whistle, Keith kicked off from the ground hard. His team shot into the air in perfect unison, the silver on their kit blinding in the early morning sun. Keith felt his nerves leave him in the thrill of the flight; this was where he felt most confident, piloting his broom. Several feet away, the Gryffindor team followed suit. Keith had to supress a grin as the keeper kicked off too hard and barrelled into Lance, knocking the other seeker off balance. He sped away gleefully across the pitch. When he glanced back, he saw that Lance had recovered from the Keeper incident and was hovering a few metres away, clearly waiting to tail him. This must be a new tactic of the Gryffindors. Keith grinned at him evilly, before speeding away again in search of the snitch.  
“And it’s Gryffindor in possession, Denis Creevey of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, Denis of course is in his final year of Hogwarts which makes him a very experienced player, and he’s heading for the Slytherin goalposts! Oh! Nice bludger work by Slytherin beater Nyma, unfortunately not enough for him to drop the Quaffle, he’s at the goalposts now – HE SCORES! Ten-Zero to Gryffindor, I hope Slytherin can bring this back-“ there was some displeased tutting from the teacher sat beside Pidge; after all, the commentating was supposed to be unbiased.  
Keith cursed. Barely a minute in and Gryffindor were already in the lead. He saw Lance cheering and punching the air along with the Gryffindors in the crowd. Taking this as his chance, Keith tipped the handle of his broom forward and streaked away. By the time Lance had finished celebrating, Keith was at the other end of the pitch and Lance’s plans for tailing him were destroyed.  
Now that he was away from Lance, Keith felt completely undistracted and began scanning the air for the snitch. He slowly began circling the pitch, his eyes squinting in the glaring sunlight. On more than one occasion he started, heart pumping excitedly at what he thought was the little winged ball, but it always turned out to be the glint of a fellow players golden watch-strap.  
Suddenly, another flash of gold caught his eye. Yes! This time it really was the snitch! Keith could see it hovering teasingly halfway down the Gryffindor goal posts. Heart beating wildly with adrenaline, Keith surged forward, falling dramatically into a steep dive as he headed for his prize. Vaguely, he heard Pidge pause mid-sentence to comment on what he was doing.  
“And it looks like Slytherin seeker Keith Kogane has seen something! Yes! He is diving for the snitch and- AH! Blocked by Gryffindor seeker, Lance McClain. Unlucky this time, Keith.”  
They were right. Keith had been blocked. He was metres away from the snitch when Lance had swerved in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere and grinning wildly, completely blocking Keith’s view. Yelling in frustration, he swerved around Lance to search the area where the snitch had been. But it was now nowhere to be seen. Too annoyed to think of anything to say to Lance, Keith lost no time in speeding higher up into the air, back to his previous position to continue his hunt. Keith glanced behind him and discovered that Lance had returned to his previous tactic of tailing him.  
“What’s your deal, McClain?” Keith yelled, eyeing Lance as he continued to streak along next to him. “Too lazy to look for the snitch on your own?”  
At this, Lance just laughed, cocking one eyebrow at Keith.  
“I’ve got a plan, Kogane, don’t you worry.”  
“And what’s this?” Pidge’s voice came again from bellow. “It appears the two seekers are having a flirtatious mid-air discussion, you could seriously cut the sexual tension between those two with a knife. I don’t even know if they’re trying to catch the snitch or each other anymore-“  
“GUNDERSON!” bellowed the professor next to Pidge, even attempting to snatch the microphone away.  
“Sorry, sorry...” Pidge could be heard muttering, accompanied by laughs from the audience. Keith felt himself growing extremely hot around his neck and face. Why, why had Pidge had to say that? Especially when it wasn’t at all true. Keith glanced at Lance and was surprised to see he looked just as embarrassed as Keith felt. This was unusual – normally Lance was the sort to enjoy jokes like that. Lance threw a small, embarrassed smile at him, shrugging as if to say ‘what the hell?’. Keith was extremely side-tracked by how cute he looked doing this.  
No. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He could not let himself get distracted. Gryffindor had already scored three goals, to Slytherin’s two, putting them in the lead at-  
“Thirty-twenty to Gryffindor! That’ the current score, although it soon may change as Slytherin chaser Clearwater approaches the goalposts, come on Selena! She swerves to avoid the Keeper and YES! SHE SCORES, making the score a level thirty-thirty!"  
Keith celebrated ecstatically along with the rest of his team, cheering loudly and watching as Selena Clearwater did a lap of the pitch, pumping her fist in the air. They were now drawing with Gryffindor! If Keith caught the snitch now, his team would win the match by a hundred-and-fifty points, putting them in a great position in terms of winning the championship. Keith doubled his efforts, flying slowly around the pitch, his eyes straining for any hint of gold. Lance was still following him, though at a further distance than before. Both boys were determined not to lose.  
The game progressed and Keith was not having much luck – the only sighting he’d have off the snitch continued to be the time Lance had blocked him. Keith assumed he had done this because Keith had a faster broom, and therefor Lance would not have made it if he tried to race him there. There had been a relatively long stretch with no goals from either team – both keepers were performing very well.  
All of a sudden, a well-aimed bludger hit by a Gryffindor beater whizzed towards Keith. It was so close to him, he had no time to do anything but roll. The bludger skimmed past him, so close he felt it brush the side of his shoulder. He rolled quicker, and before he knew it, was hanging upside down in the air. He quickly righted himself, feeling disorientated and slightly dizzy by the blood that had rushed to his head. Before he had even had chance to get his bearings again, he saw it – it was hovering almost directly below him, right at the base of the Gryffindor stand. Adrenaline instantly pumping, he pushed himself straight into a vertical dive. He could feel himself slipping forward on his broom, gravity dragging him down. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the handle tighter, willing himself to not slip right over the front.  
That was when he saw Lance – the other boy had been a little way below Keith. When he saw that Keith was diving, he’d instantly dived too, heading for the snitch – and being closer to the floor, he was now in front! Keith pushed his broom harder, putting on an extra spurt of speed. He was gaining on the other boy – now so close that he could have stretched out a hand and touched his broom’s tail.  
His superior broom was now drawing level with Lance’s. Determination filled him as he pushed his firebolt as fast as it could go. A sudden thought struck him; the snitch looked as if it was only about a metre or two from the ground. Keith would be very lucky if he managed to pull up in time after catching it to avoid smashing into the floor. He gritted his teeth again, pushing this fear from his mind. He could do this.  
Twenty metres from the ground.  
Fifteen.  
Ten.  
Lance suddenly disappeared from his side, pulling up to avoid crashing into the ground. Keith kept on going. He was so close. He stretched out his right hand, meaning only his left was gripping the handle and stopping him falling forward off his broom. The ground was only five meters away. He reached out for the ball, stretching as far as he could, waiting until he felt his fingers curl triumphantly around it.  
Closing his eyes and bracing for the impact, he pulled his broom up as sharply as he could with his left hand. The sudden change in velocity was too much for Keith’s balance; he rolled right off his broom.  
Luckily, he was barely three feet from the ground. He landed with a jarring bump, and continued to roll across the grass.  
When he finally came to a stop and dared to open his eyes, he was staring straight up at the Gryffindor stand. The students were leaning anxiously over the side to see what had happened. There were some that clearly hoped Keith had injured himself – but when they saw the tiny golden ball, fluttering defeated in his hand, looks of horrified disappointment crossed their faces.  
All through his intense vertical dive, Keith seemed to have lost his sense of hearing. But it now came back to him in one tremendous roar. Half of the crowd, especially the Slytherin stand, were going wild. It hit Keith; they had won. He’d caught the snitch! They’d won a hundred-and-eighty points to thirty!  
Slowly he sat up, an enormous grin spreading across his face as it really hit him. A few metres away, he could see his broom hovering in mid-air where he’d fallen off it. That was the last thing he saw before the rest of his team smashed into him. He was engulfed by a thick layer of bodies, green and silver robes, and loud yelling. Six pairs of hands were helping him to his feet, and slapping him on his back in triumph. Keith was in ecstasy. What a fantastic start to his career as Captain! He couldn’t have hoped for the match to turn out better! Vaguely he could hear Pidge on their microphone, repeating Slytherin’s winning score again and again in victory.  
A few meters away, the Gryffindor team were landing, mostly looking angry and disappointed, though giving Keith impressed looks all the same.  
However, the grin on Lance’s face couldn’t have been wider. Keith watched him walk up to him in confusion.  
“Well played, Kogane,” Lance said. “I’m not ashamed to admit that’s one of the coolest dives I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t have done it.”  
Keith felt himself blushing, and grinned back at him. “Thank you. Yours wasn’t too bad either.”  
Lance started to smile happily.  
“Although obviously not as good as mine,” Keith added playfully, nudging Lance’s shoulder. Lance laughed in surprise.  
“Don’t push it, Kogane,” he said, still laughing as he headed back to join the Gryffindor team. The stupid grin still plastered all over Keith’s face, he turned back to his team too. There would definitely be a long afternoon of celebrating ahead of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets drunk and flirts with a painting. Enough said.

Chapter Two

That afternoon had been a great one; Keith had spent it with Pidge, relaxing under a large oak tree by the lake. Still feeling euphoric over his victory, they’d whiled away the hours reading, reliving the match, and talking. As the sun was setting, they’d heading back up the sloping lawn to the castle. The entire Slytherin table had been much rowdier and chattier than usual at dinner. Keith lost count of the number of times he was approached by various members of his house to congratulate him on his spectacular catch in the morning’s match.

Keith, eyes wandering the Gryffindor table, noticed that Lance and a couple of his friends had left the Great Hall quite a lot earlier than everybody else. Keith shrugged and decided to think nothing of it. Contrasting the Slytherin table, the rest of the Hall was a lot less animated than they had been that morning. Now that the Quidditch match was over, most students were back to thinking of their enormous piles of homework that they had. This was doing nothing to dampen Keith’s mood though. His head swam with memories of his dive, catch, adrenaline, and cheering crowd.  
“Keith, stop grinning at thin air, people are going to think you’re mad,” Pidge said, without glancing up from the book propped in their lap. Keith, unaware that he’d even been doing it, smiled and rolled his eyes.  
“I’m sorry, is happiness a crime now?”  
“Yep,” Pidge said with a smile, finally looking up and closing their book. “I’m gonna head up to the library, I told Matt I’d help him go over his Transfiguration essay tonight, he really is hopeless at it.” They swung their legs off the bench, suddenly stuffing the book back into their bag.  
“Alright then. See you later!” Keith called after his friend. They waved with one hand, then turned towards the Great Hall doors.

Keith, having little reason to stay at the table now that his friend had left, decided to head to the Slytherin common room. The rest of his team were already there, and he was eager to join the celebrations. Slipping off the bench, he hurried out of the Hall, turning his steps towards the passage down to the Dungeons. Once inside the dimly lit, sloping corridor, he turned his head to look at the paintings as he passed. Most of the ones in this area of the castle did not have people in them; the inhabitants didn’t like to be hung in dingy areas such as this, where there were no windows. Coming up, he knew there was a painting of a bowl of fruit. Keith had discovered (in only his first year) that tickling the green pear on that painting gained you access to the Hogwarts’ kitchens. Although, at the time being only an inexperienced eleven-year-old, Keith had been unable to escape that incident without being caught. It was then that he’d first been told he had ‘discipline issues’… whatever that meant.

Eventually, Keith reached the fork in the passage; left led towards his common room, the other towards the Hufflepuff common room and kitchens. Keith was about to turn left, when he heard the sound of muffled voices, floating down the passage way from the right. One of them especially sounded loud and slurred; the person was clearly drunk. By the sound of the voices and footsteps, it sounded as if they were heading towards him. His interest peaked, Keith slipped down the corridor to the right until he found a tall pillar jutting out from the wall. He hurriedly concealed himself in the shadows behind it.

Light was pouring into the passage from up the corridor. The only place it could have been coming from was the entrance to the kitchens. He saw two shadows on the floor, cast by the people leaving it. Keith wasn’t really sure why he was hiding; it was just instinct. Plus, anyone coming out of the kitchens was not supposed to have been in there. That could mean they were trouble.

Eventually, the two students came close enough to where Keith was concealed for him to see their faces in the flickering light from a nearby torch. He was surprised to see that it was Lance, with the friend he’d left the hall with earlier. He was a Hufflepuff whom Keith liked, named Hunk – Keith knew him as they had Herbology together. In their arms they were carrying what looked to be bottles of butterbeer and – firewhisky? Keith assumed they’d been sent to steal it for some sort of party the Gryffindors were having.  
“Remind me again why we’re celebrating? Your team lost,” Hunk asked, his tone amused.  
“It’s always a good time to have a paaaarty,” Lance slurred, grinning stupidly and stumbling into a wall. Keith had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing.  
Hunk rolled his eyes, though Keith could tell he was trying not to laugh to, and went to help Lance stand up straight again.  
“How are you already drunk? I saw you drink like two bottles, you lightweight,” Hunk smirked.  
“Hey! That iiis not true,” Lance yelled, pointing a finger accusingly at Hunk. The two carried on past. Keith was desperate to see more; this would be the most fun he’d had in ages. 

Stealthily, he crept up the passage way after them. He followed them through the castle, watching gleefully as Lance tripped over statues and fell up the stairs. Halfway up to Gryffindor tower, Hunk remembered that he’d forgotten something from the Hufflepuff dormitory. Keith had to dive quickly through a door to an empty classroom to avoid being seen. When he emerged, Lance had disappeared but it wasn’t difficult to follow the sound of drunken footsteps and crashes as he walked into things. Hunk had been right; Lance was a serious lightweight. He hadn’t even got to the party yet.

Eventually, they reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Keith was honestly sorry; he had enjoyed spying on drunk Lance almost as much as he’d enjoyed the Quidditch match that morning.

He watched, concealed behind a banister, as Lance stumbled over to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She raised her eyes at him, clearly unimpressed.  
“Heeeeey,” Lance slurred, raising his eyebrows and smiling at her. Keith literally had to stuff his fist into his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing; he knew Lance liked to flirt with anybody he could, but a painting? He wished with all his heart that technology could have worked in the castle; he wanted to film this and send it to everyone he knew.  
“Password?” she replied, glaring at Lance down her nose. Lance furrowed his brow. Then realisation hit him.  
“Shit…” he mubled, raising one of the bottles he was holding and pressing it against his forehead. “I can’t remember…” He looked back up at the portrait.  
The fat lady scowled at him. “No password, no entry.” She said. Lance slowly put down the butterbeer and firewhisky bottles he was carrying onto the floor. He straightened back up slowly.  
“Listen…. I don’t know the passwooord…” he hiccupped, “but we’re close aren’t we?” he placed his hand suggestively against the frame. “Just let me in…. I’ll make it up to you…”

At this point, Keith could not contain himself any longer. He started laughing so hard, he had to double over, gasping for breath. Lance whipped around, eyeing the staircase suspiciously.  
“Wh-who’s there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Keith emerged from behind the banister, still holding his stomach.  
“Dude, are you… were you flirting with a painting?” Keith broke down into a fit of giggles again.  
“I-what? No! Of course not!” Lance stuttered. The fat lady looked extremely offended.  
“I’ll have you know that I was an extremely sort after woman in my time! It’s not his fault he couldn’t resist me.”  
The look of horror on Lance’s face made Keith laugh even harder. Lance turned as if to say something to the fat Lady, but then thought better of it and turned back to Keith. It was then that a look of recognition came over Lance as he realised who it was.  
“Mullet-head! Hey!” Lance said loudly, stumbling towards Keith grinning.  
“Mullet-head?” Keith asked in outrage. Lance reached out his hand and tugged on the long hair at the back of Keith’s neck. Keith swatted his arm away in annoyance.  
“OOow, what? I kinda like it,” Lance said, rubbing his arm. Keith hoped Lance wouldn’t remember the blush that came over his face at this.  
“Flirting with the fat lady is probably the weirdest thing you’ve ever done…” Keith said, changing the subject.  
“Apart from that time in second year that I bet Mclaggen to eat a pound of doxy eggs... he did it aswell… that was awesome!” Lance muttered to himself. Keith honestly had no idea what he was talking about.  
“Seriously, how much have you had to drink?” Keith asked, raising his eyebrows.  
“Not that much, only like one or t-AH!“ Lance had stuck his hand out as if to lean against a wall - the trouble was there was no wall there. He began to fall straight to the side.  
“Shit!” Keith whispered, diving forward quickly and sticking his arms out underneath Lance, catching him as he keeled over.  
“Be careful, Jesus!” Keith said, lowering him carefully onto the floor. He glanced down at his face. Oh. Lance was completely knocked out. His eyes were shut and he was snoring loudly. Wow, Keith thought. He was so excited for a party that he was now going to sleep through. And he had left Keith here to deal with his unconscious body! How inconsiderate! Now what was he supposed to do?

Keith looked around, up the corridor, and back down the stairs. It didn’t look or sound like anyone was coming. Keith sighed in exasperation. Carefully, he slipped his arms back under Lance and scooped his body off the floor. It wasn’t too difficult for Keith to carry him – all those hours of Quidditch practise had built up his muscles. Carrying him in front of him, Keith staggered towards the portrait hole. The fat lady was watching in amusement. Keith looked up at her hopefully, wondering whether she was going to let him in.

She just shook her head, grinning maliciously. Sighing, Keith decided all he could really do was leave Lance here. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before Hunk arrived, or someone came out of the common room to see what was taking them so long with the drinks.

Gently, Keith set Lance down on the floor beside the portrait hole, next to the bottles of alcohol Lance he left there. Turning to search through his bag, Keith found what he was looking for; a scrap of parchment, some ink and a quill. He quickly unscrewed the top, dipping the feather into it. He scrawled a note onto the parchment, and tucked it into the front of Lance’s t-shit, where it was clearly visible. The note read:

‘Please help me.  
I got so drunk on the way up here that I knocked myself out (I’m a lightweight)  
If found, please carry me into the common room.’

Smiling to himself, Keith stood up. But looking at lance lying there, he suddenly felt a bit sorry for him. He had an afterthought; he shrugged out of his jacket, folded it up, and tucked it gently underneath Lance’s head. He looked quite peaceful lying there. The sun shone through a nearby window onto his face. Trying not to be distracted by the way his brown hair fell across his eyes, Keith straightened up again. Then, without another thought, he turned and began heading back towards the Slytherin common room, resisting the urge to turn back and look one last time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prefect bathroom scene... idk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is short I will probably post a longer one soon *cough*

Chapter Three

“Where have you been?” Pidge asked as Keith collapsed into the armchair next to them. He’d just made it back to the Slytherin common room, which was full of the loud voices of people celebrating, despite the late hour.  
“I…ah…” Keith struggled for a way to tell his friend he had been spying on Lance without it sounding weird. Pidge waited expectantly.  
“I saw Lance and Hunk and followed them… But it’s not like it sounds!” He added hurriedly when Pidge raised their eyebrows. “It’s just that I thought that it was funny - Lance was really-“  
“Okay, okay, you know what? I don’t want to know,” Pidge said, smirking slightly. “Where’s your jacket gone?”   
“Erm… it’s currently under Lance’s head, I think.” Keith replied. Pidge spluttered.  
“I thought you didn’t want to know?” he asked, smiling.  
“I officially don’t.” They replied. However, he could definitely see them smiling at him knowingly out of the corner of his eye.

*

Although they’d only had a match last week, Keith was not going to let his team slack off training. To general groans of annoyance, he’d dragged them from the warmth of the castle to practice for most of the afternoon the following Saturday. It had spent the morning raining, and so, by the end of practise, Keith was subsequently covered in dirt. A trail of muddy footprints could be followed all the way from the main entrance, to the fifth floor, where Keith was currently traipsing along a corridor towards the Prefect’s bathroom.

The door lay to the left of a small bronze statue of Boris the Bewildered, a short wizard looking extremely confused.  
“Marmora,” Keith whispered the current password that gained access to the bathroom, pushing lightly on the wooden door. It swung open, revealing the glittering gold and white room beyond. On one side of the room, there was a row of stalls with toilets inside. Most of the remaining room was taken up with a large swimming-pool sized bathtub that was sunk into the floor. All around the bath, a hundred gleaming golden taps stood, each with a different coloured jewel set into the top. Keith liked to come here as often as he had time to; playing with the different taps was more fun than he cared to admit.

He headed over to a small, white-painted wooden bench that rested to the left of the door. He dumped his bag and began kicking off his mud-splattered shoes, before turning back towards the door to lock it. He had almost reached it, when it swung open, narrowly avoiding hitting him in the face. 

Who should step through the door but Lance, looking drenched and equally as dirty as Keith, his bag over his shoulder and – was that his jacket he was wearing? Lance carried on walking into the room – it took him a couple of seconds to notice Keith standing there. When he did, he froze, shock crossing his face.  
“Oh- sorry- I thought it was unoccupied,” He said, stumbling over his words.  
“Uh- well, it wasn’t…” he replied.   
Lance frowned. “Don’t you lock the door?”  
“I was just about to,” Keith said, nodding awkwardly.  
“Oh…okay… I guess I’ll leave then,” Lance muttered. Both boys had turned quite red. Lance spun around and began walking out the door again, when-  
“Is that my jacket?” Keith asked suddenly. Lance spun around.  
“What?”  
“The one you’re wearing I mean, I- I think it’s mine?”  
“Oh…” Lance said, staring down at his chest, and fiddling with the sleeve. “Erm... yeah. I was bringing it to give back to you.”  
Keith furrowed his brow in confusion. “But… you didn’t know you would see me here...”  
Lance had begun pulling off the jacket over his head, so Keith couldn’t see how red he had turned. Acting like he hadn’t heard Keith, he held it out for him to take. Keith snatched it back, suddenly grinning, reminded of why Lance had his jacket in the first place.  
“So you’ve recovered from ‘the party’ last weekend then?”  
Lance groaned. “Barely. I can’t believe I missed it.”  
“It’s your own fault, you know. I don’t suppose you remember much of our conversation?”  
“I remember seeing you outside the Gryffindor common room, but no, I don’t remember anything that we talked about.” Lance said. “Why? You say something you hoped I wouldn’t remember?” he asked, grinning.  
“Pfft,” Keith said, hoping he hadn’t turned too red. “If anything it should be the other way around. You should have heard some of the crazy stuff you came out with.”  
Lance suddenly looked extremely worried. “Why? What did I say?” He demanded. Keith snorted.  
“You were flirting with the fat lady.”  
“Oh my god…” Lance muttered, putting his face in his hands. “You’re not going to tell anyone about that, are you?”  
“Mmm... maybe not.” Keith said, smirking evilly. “It depends on whether you’ll do something for me.”   
“Kinky.”  
Both boys whipped around. The quiet whisper had come from the other side of the bathroom. Keith was horrified to see Moaning Myrtle, sitting on the floor on the other side of the bath, elbows resting on a tap and her head perched eagerly on her hands, as if she was watching a particularly exciting movie.  
“No, no, you boys go on. I was enjoying myself.” Myrtle said, cackling at the expressions on the faces of the two pupils.  
“Myrtle!” Lance spluttered, “Stop spying on people!”  
“Oh, well, why should I?” Myrtle said stroppily, frowning. “It’s not like there’s much else fun to do around here.” She paused. “Why are you both in the bathroom at the same time anyway?”  
“We’re- we’re not meant to be.” Keith muttered.  
“Yeah, I was just leaving,” Lance said hastily.  
“Oh okay. I think I’ll stick around for a while,” Myrtle said, grinning again and zooming around in a loop-the-loop over the bath, to hover gleefully in front of the two boys.  
“No, you definitely will not,” Keith said firmly.  
“You can’t stop me,” Myrtle huffed, folding her arms resolutely. Keith heard a rustling sound next to him, and glanced over to see Lance had pulled out his wand.  
“I can, actually,” he said, pointing it threateningly at the ghost. Myrtle began laughing hysterically.  
“That’s not going to work on me, is it? I’m DEAD!” She laughed.  
“Oh yeah? Levicorpus!” Lance cried suddenly, pointing his wand at the girl. A bolt of green light shot from the end of his wand towards Moaning Myrtle and – as predicted – flew right through her, striking the bath behind.

A deafening crash filled the bathroom. The whole floor shook dramatically, throwing both Lance and Keith onto the ground. Once the trembling subsided, Keith was able to look up and over at the floor where the bath was. Or should he say ‘used to be’, for where it had been there was now just a stretch of blank white tiles. Suddenly remembering what the jinx ‘Levicorpus’ actually did, Keith’s eyes slowly moved up to the ceiling. Sure enough, there the bath was, hanging upside down. Beside him, Keith heard Lance groan.

Still hovering in the air, Myrtle was laughing so hard she had to clutch at her stomach.  
“Oh, that’s not good, is it?” she asked gleefully. “How is someone going to use that pool when it’s on the ceiling?”  
“It’s a bath, not a pool…” Lance muttered, but Myrtle was not listening.  
“Someone is definitely in trouble now!” She cried, as if no other thought in the world could bring her more happiness and, without another word, she flew into a cubicle and dived with a splash into one of the toilets.

Keith slowly turned to look at Lance, who was hanging his head in shame, still kneeling on the floor next to him. Then, he slowly turned back to look at the ruined room in front of him.  
“Well this is just brilliant,” he muttered.

*

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t know that the counter jink was just ‘Liberacorpus’. You’re supposed to be 6th years.” Pidge sighed in exasperation. Keith had had to sprint down to the Library to find them while Lance guarded the Prefect Bathroom door to make sure no one went in and saw the havoc that had been wreaked in there. They were currently all sat as a threesome on the floor of the bathroom, that had, thankfully, been restored to normal.  
“What were you doing in here together, anyway?” they asked, raising an eyebrow.  
“Will everyone stop asking us that!” Lance demanded. “Nothing suspicious was happening, I just happened to walk in and Keith was already in here!”  
“Uhuh,” Pidge said, clearly unimpressed with this story. Keith rolled his eyes. He had noticed that Pidge seemed to be on a bit of a mission for him and Lance to get together; what with the commentary they’d used at Quidditch, and their attitude towards them being caught together in a bathroom. Which, Keith reminded himself, there was nothing weird about.  
“Well,” Pidge sighed, getting to their feet and brushing themselves off.  
“This has been a slight distraction, but you two should probably get yourselves clean anyway. You both look like you’ve rolled around in a mud pit together. I bet that was an ‘accidental’ meeting too…” Pidge muttered to themselves as they strode towards the door. Keith rolled his eyes, and looked at Lance who, to his surprise, was blushing.

Pidge turned back when they reached the door. “Oh, and, by the way, I would recommend just using the normal showers. I think you’ve caused enough chaos for one day in here.”  
“Good idea,” Keith agreed, heading after his friend out of the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Boggart lesson... keith supporting an insucure Lance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops it's been like a month.

“Boggarts.”  
Keith’s Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was stood at the front of the room, her wispy ginger hair thrown back into a bun and a grim expression on her face. There was some general muttering - most of them had practiced facing Boggarts lower down the school. For the majority of students, with practice, they were easy creatures to face.

“Today’s lesson will be a practical one; facing Boggarts. I know what you’re thinking; Boggarts may seem like an easy topic for sixth years. However, what most people don’t realise is that, with age, one’s fears tend to grow. What you saw when facing a Boggart several years ago may seem like a walk in the park to what you may face today.”

To Keith, this did not sound encouraging. What exactly was she expecting to appear? Dementors? Giant spiders? Crazy purple aliens? Glancing around at his classmates, they did not look too happy about this either. Pidge pushed their glasses up their nose nervously. His eyes flicked to Lance who looked much less laid-back than usual.

“The Boggart I’ve managed to get my hands on for you today is currently in here,” the professor said, patting an antique looking hat-box on the desk next to her that was giving off an ominous rattle.  
“Of course, nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when they are alone, but once let out, it will assume the shape of whatever each of you most fears. So be prepared. Please form an orderly queue.”

The room was filled with loud scraping as thirty students drew they chairs back across the flagstones and stood up. Keith and Pidge shuffled anxiously into the queue. Several places in front, Keith could see Lance, abnormally quiet, and stood next to Hunk. Whereas a few years ago, the atmosphere would have been one of excitement, now it was one of nervousness (or in some cases, mild panic). Though they had all been young when it happened, they all remembered the wizarding war of several years previously. Many had lost family - their biggest fears had definitely moved on from childhood monsters-under-the-bed. 

The first in the queue, a Ravenclaw Keith did not know, stepped up towards the desk. After saying he was ready, the professor slowly removed the lid of the box. Some form of dark smoke flew from the box and surrounded him, quickly forming into bars; the boy now crouched in a cramped metal cage. Keith presumed that he must be claustrophobic. He watched as the boy shut his eyes, and breathed deeply. Slowly, he raised his wand-

“Riddikulus!” There was a noise like a whip crack. The cage disappeared from the boy in a wisp of smoke. Instead, a bunch of balloons appeared in front of him blowing about in the wind from the open window. They were each a different shape of a cartoon characters, like you see being sold in fair grounds. People began laughing, more out of confusion that anything else. The Ravenclaw shrugged, looking embarrassed.

“They remind me of my little sister,” he muttered. Keith had to admit, that was somewhat adorable.  
Slowly the line worked its way down, each person stepping up and witnessing one of their biggest fears in front of them. After their turn, each person headed to the back of the room, shaken. The line shortened, until it was Lance who was up next. He stepped forward, his wand arm trembling.  
“Are you ready?” the professor asked. Lance nodded quickly, taking a deep breath. Slowly, she removed the lid. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, one by one, Keith watch as people began to emerge from the hat-box. The first was a woman whom he didn’t recognise. She looked to be in her mid-fifties. Keith noticed that Lance shared some of her features, her nose and skin tone. She was currently glaring at him with a look of venom.

“Mum…” Lance whispered, staring at the woman with a look of apprehension.  
“Lance,” she said, her voice cold. “I am so disappointed in you. No Outstandings on your owls? You’re never going to become an auror. You’re never going to live up to your brothers and sisters.” Lance was staring at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. Before he could say anything, a second person climbed out of the box. Keith recognised him as Hunk. He glanced towards the real Hunk, who stood with a look of confusion. The Hunk who had come out of the box glared at Lance with a similar expression to his mother’s.

“I never really liked you Lance,” he spoke, his voice mocking. “You want to know why I hang out with you? I feel sorry for you, that’s why. You don’t fit in here - not one person here really likes you.”  
Keith’s blood was starting to boil. Even though he knew they weren’t real, he was growing extremely angry. He glanced again at Lance, who was making no attempt to raise his wand. He was just stood staring with a look of shock and misery on his face.

Another person began to climb out of the box - it was a player from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She jumped onto the ground in front of Lance, and stood glaring at him.  
“You know what the team says about you when you’re not there?” She hissed at him. “We talk about how none of us want you as a Captain. We’re just waiting for you to screw up - we know you will soon. You’ll ruin it for all of us.” Keith looked again at Lance and was horrified to see tears rolling down his face. He glanced at the professor - she looked slightly worried. If she wasn’t going to step in soon, he would do it himself.

Then, Lance’s mum started to speak again. “You’ve always been a burden on our family Lance - least wanted, least loved by us all,” Lance let out a sob, and began to sink to his knees in front of them.  
His mother continued, “All you’ve ever been is a disappointment-“ Keith didn’t exactly know how it happened. All he knew was that he was so angry, his breath was coming heavily. Suddenly, he shoved his way past the people in front of him, until he was next to lance who was still on his knees on the floor. Keith raised his wand, pointing it defiantly at the three figures in front of him.  
“RIDDIKULUS!” he yelled powerfully, all his anger at what he had just witnessed thrown into the word. With a deafening crack, the three figures in front of Lance vanished in a plume of smoke.

A stunned silence settled over the classroom. The only sound was Keith, who was still panting, and the muffled gasping of Lance’s sobs, who had buried his face in his hands.  
“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. Class dismissed!” the professor cried awkwardly. There were no complaints; everyone filed out quickly, too shocked by what they had just witnessed. The only ones left were the professor, looking very worried, Lance, Keith and Hunk. Before she could speak, Hunk ran over to Lance, and quickly crouched on the floor next to him.

“Buddy, are you okay? I swear, that wasn’t-“  
“Hunk I can’t- I- Please, I want to be alone for a minute,” Lance said, hurredly rising from the floor and jogging towards the door. He swung it open, and left, his quick footsteps receding down the hall.  
“I should go after him,” Hunk said, looking extremely upset.  
“No, please… Let me,” Keith said.  
“Okay… If you’re sure. Please make sure he’s okay!” Hunk called after Keith, who was already striding towards the door.  
“I will!” He called back, and hurried out into the hall. 

His head whipped from side to side, looking both ways up the corridor. It was completely empty. Keith wracked his brain, wondering where Lance was most likely to have gone. Probably not back to the Gryffindor common room, there would have been lot’s of people in there. Suddenly, Keith had an idea. It had hardly popped into his head when he took off, his feet carrying him on the familiar path towards the Owlery. If Keith was upset, he thought, that was probably the first place he would go to clear his head.

On his way, Keith’s mind was rapidly turning over, desperately trying to process what had just happened. So Lance's worst fear was… what? Rejetion? Dissapointing his family and friends? Keith shook his head - it was just so weird. He had always thought of Lance as one of the most cocky, confident students in the school. Was that all just a mask to hide how insecure he was?

He then turned his attention to another thought that had been growing at the back of his mind. What was it that had made him so angry? Not just for any classmate would he have stepped up in front of the class to do that for. All he knew was that he never wanted to see Lance like that again. He had looked so broken and distraught, knelt crying on the floor. It made Keith’s chest ache - seeing Lance upset had been one of the worst feelings of his life. But why? Up to this point, he’d kind of assumed that he didn’t like Lance - he was another big-headed Gryffindor. But now that he thought about it, Lance had never actually done anything wrong to him. Keith hated to admit it, but he was pretty funny. He was annoying, sure, but in an endearing way. In a cute way.

Wait, had his mind just associated the word ‘cute’ with Lance? What was happening? Keith decided that now was not the time to follow up on that train of thought. He would worry about it later.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the realisation that he had reached the Owlery door. He tugged on the heavy iron handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Quietly, he pulled his wand out and whispered, “Alohamora…”   
The lock gave a satisfying click, and Keith slowly pushed the door open.  
“Lance?” he called out, staring up the row of rickety wooden stairs in front of him. He began walking up them slowly, listening out.

“Lance?!” he called again, louder this time. A few steps up, and Keith emerged into the room at the very top of the tower. It had a high ceiling and on every beam and rafter perched at least several owls. Most were roosting, a few were swooping in and out of the pane-less windows. And there, hunched over in a corner, was Lance. He was no longer crying noisily, but as Keith approached, he saw that there were still tear-tracks down his cheeks. Lance looked up suddenly, as if snapping out of a day-dream. When he saw Keith, he began wiping furiously at his cheeks, trying to conceal his tears. In that moment, Keith felt too sad to be awkward.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked. Lance shrugged, which Keith took to mean yes, and he sat down on the floor opposite him, wrapping his arms around his knees. Okay - maybe he did feel a little bit awkward. He wasn’t really sure what he should say. He’d never really had to comfort anyone who was this upset before. It was Lance, however, who broke the silence.

“You must think I’m such a loser,” he muttered at the floor. Keith blinked in surprise.  
“What? What, no, of course not. Why would you even think that?”  
“It’s such a dumb thing to be my worst fear. And I’m so pathetic I couldn’t even get rid of the Boggart myself. I’m not good at anything.”  
“Lance, c’mon, you know that’s not true. Just because you were too upset to beat the stupid Boggart. That wasn’t a dumb fear, man, that was a fucking hard one. Scarier than most people’s. And there are plenty of things you’re good at - Quidditch for one thing.”  
“Not as good as you,” Lance said, but Keith could see that a small smile had crept onto his face. Keith felt a bit weird being this genuine with Lance, but it was clearly having the effect he wanted.  
“I’m serious Lance,” Keith said, nudging his foot into the other boy’s. “You’re needed. Your family need you, your team needs you, I n-,” Keith stopped short. Lance raised his eyebrows, glancing up at him. Keith’s face flushed with embrassement. He tried to ignore the small grin spreading across Lance’s face. 

“I mean… what I’m trying to say is. None of that stuff the Boggart said is true. So lighten up, okay? Tears don’t look pretty on you.”  
Lance nodded. Keith was pleased to see him smiling.  
“Thank you Kieth. Seriously. Not just for stopping the Boggart, but for coming up here to find me. I didn’t realise you…”  
“I what?” Keith asked.  
“I don’t know. I didn’t realise you cared about me, I guess,” Lance shrugged.  
Keith knew he was blushing. “Well. Now you do.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finally realises stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter so soon?! sorry if this is rushed idk

“Good work everyone. I think we’ll call it a day now. The Gryffindors have booked the pitch for the afternoon.” Keith called to the rest of his team, all of whom looked exhausted. They’d been up since early in the morning to get a few hours of Quidditch practice in before lunch. Everyone gratefully headed towards the grass, landing with heavy thuds on the ground that had been hardened by the cold weather. It was late October, and Halloween was only two days away. From Keith’s spot above the pitch he could see the enormous carriage-sized pumpkins nestled outside Hagrid’s hut. Glancing towards the castle, he could see the Gryffindor team already heading down the sloping lawn, brooms over their shoulders. Lance was leading the group, talking animatedly to a teammate next to him. Squinting, Keith saw that it was the same girl who had been part of Lance’s Boggart earlier in the week.

Keith’s feelings towards Lance had definitely changed since before that incident. He would never have thought of him as being a very insecure person, but supposed that was the same with everyone - you could never really tell what was going on in their heads. He wasn’t sure what he was to Lance now. Before, they had been rival Quidditch captains. But they had definitely had a bonding moment in the Owlery, Keith knew it. So, was his status Lance’s friend now, or what?

Shaking himself from these thoughts, he headed towards the ground where his team were already going into the changing rooms. Once he reached the changing rooms himself, he hurredly changed out of his dirty kit and stepped out onto the main lawn, to head back up towards the castle. Because of the late month, the sun was low in the sky but still strong and subsequently cast long shadows from the forbidden forest across the grass. Shivering slightly, he shouldered his firebolt, and began walking. He watched as the Gryffindors got closer to him.

Lance, pausing briefly from his conversation, noticed Keith walking up the lawn towards him.  
“I’ll catch you guys up, just give me one sec,” Keith heard him say to the rest of his team, before, to his surprise, Lance began jogging over to him.

“Hey,” he said, slightly breathlessly.  
“Hey,” Keith responded, wondering faintly why Lance had come over to talk to him.  
“We’re just heading down to the Pitch to practice,” Lance nodded over his shoulder at his team.  
“Yeah I know, I saw that you’d booked it this afternoon.” Keith said, slightly confused at what Lance was getting at. An awkward pause ensued. Keith noticed that Lance was digging the toes of one foot into the ground nervously.

“Erm, listen. I wanted to ask you… well,” Lance begun. “Well, you know there’s a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow? I wanted to ask whether you’d like to go with me. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t, I just… wanted to ask.” All this came out of Lance’s mouth in a rush. It took Keith a few moments to process what he had heard, then his mouth decided to take over-  
“No, I mean, yes. Yes… I’d like that.” Keith was pretty sure his mouth had not gotten permission from his brain before saying that, but it was too late now. Lance’s face lit up into a surprised grin.  
“Seriously? Oh! Great! So… shall I meat you outside the main entrance at, like, 10? And we can walk down together?”  
“Yeah, that sounds good.” Keith said, nodding, still not quite processing what was happening.  
Lance was grinning hugely. “Great!” he repeated “I’ll see you then!” Then he turned and began running after his team down the hill.

Keith was left standing rooted to the spot, still not quite sure what had just happened.

*  
The only sound that filled the currently empty Slytherin common room was Keith’s foot as he tapped it against the flagstones. He had been slumped over in the same armchair by the fire since two hours previously, waiting for Pidge to come back from where he could only assume was the library. His patience eventually payed off, however, and he was rewarded by the familiar sound of the hidden passage scraping back.

Pidge trudged in, looking very tired, a heap of books piled in their little arms. Excepting to find the common room empty, they were surprised to see Keith, who had sprang up from his armchair on their arrival. Pidge staggered over to the nearest table and released the books that toppled down in a disorderly mess. Putting their hands on their hips, they looked up at Keith who was making his way through the maze of armchairs and sofas towards them.

“I assume you were waiting up for me?” they asked, giving Keith a curious look.  
“You assume right. I have something to tell you.” He said quickly.  
“Uhuh?” they asked, sinking back into an armchair and waiting expectantly.  
“Yeah. After Quidditch practice today, Lance came up to me. He asked me whether I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him tomorrow.”

Surprise grew on Pidge’s face. “Really? What did you say?”  
“I kind of panicked and said yes.” Keith said anxiously.  
A grin spread across Pidge’s face. “Oh my good! Keith! This is great! I mean, I kind of always knew you liked him, but I gotta say I wasn’t sure he returned the feeling until now…” they said.  
“Wait, what?” Keith asked, his eyebrows folding down in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Pidge, but what I wanted to ask was whether you wanna come with us? I feel bad leaving you on your own.”  
“Wait…”Pidge said, standing up slowly. “Keith, no… do you not understand what this means?”  
“I honestly don’t know what you mean Pidge.” Keith said, completely perplexed now.  
Pidge sighed dramatically. “You are so oblivious, Keith Kogane. No, I can’t come with you, because I’d be third-wheeling.” When Keith still looked confused, they decided to lay it out clearly for him.  
“I’m pretty sure Lance was asking you out on a date, dumbass.”

Keith’s stomach dropped. No way.  
“Wait… what? Do you really think that’s what he meant?” Keith asked, shocked.  
“Yeah…” Pidge said, looking slightly worried. “Why, do you not want to go now?”  
Keith shook his head slowly. In all honesty, he had no idea whether he did or not, because he had just never thought of it before. Well, he had thought about liking boys before, and was pretty sure that he did, you know, in general… but Lance? He wracked his brain, thinking back to times he had spent with him. Now that he thought about it, Lance was very good looking. He was tall, and pretty, and his smile and laugh were really cute…

This was too much to process. His feelings towards Lance had changed so much in just a week. But it wasn’t like he’d never had these sort of thoughts about Lance before. Like, when he was trying to find Lance after he ran off, he had been thinking about how he was cute and decided to ignore that thought. His mind had clearly been thinking it, even if it was subconsciously. 

So, Pidge thought that Lance had asked him on a date? He tried to process the idea of Lance having feelings towards him. He came to the conclusion that he liked that idea. A lot.

Coming back to his senses, he saw that Pidge was watching him still, expectantly. He cleared his throat.  
“Listen… I think I might… you know… like him. A bit. But what if you’re wrong and he just wants us to be friends? I mean I was really nice to him after the Boggart. He probably just wants to be my friend… I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to, you know, let him know I like him. At least not yet.”  
Pidge shrugged, although they were grinning. “If you don’t want to, then don’t. I’m glad you’ve come to this realisation though. In my opinion, you’d be cute together.”

Keith couldn’t help but start smiling too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of Keith and Lance's 'date'.

Keith was barely able to sleep that night. He had the low, burning feeling in his stomach that he always got when he was nervous. Questions rolled around in his mind long after the rest of his dorm mates had gone to sleep. What if it was really awkward? What if they had nothing to talk about? What if he did something weird and made himself look stupid in front of Lance. 

However, after what Pidge had made him realise that evening, he also found himself with a strong feeling of excitement. Even if Lance had meant this just as friends, it still meant he liked Keith and wanted to hang out with him more. That was step in the right direction.  
Eventually, he drifted off into an anticipative sleep.

The next morning, Keith got up way earlier than he had needed to. Lance had told him to meet at 10 and yet Keith was up at 7:30 pacing around his dorm as quietly as he could and trying to decide what to wear. He didn’t wanted it to seem like he’d put too much effort in, but also wanted to look presentable and attractive. Oh god. He was in deeper than he thought. Mentally scolding himself, he pulled on his normal black jeans and red jacket.

It took Keith a good hour to sort out his hair. He currently sported a black mullet - some would call this outdated, he just thought it made him look unique and vaguely edgy. Okay, maybe the mullet would not be around for much longer. For now, he had to be content with desperately trying to tame the mess of black hair into something a little more tidy. 

After finally being satisfied with his physical appearance, Keith decided he would head up to the Great Hall. His stomach was turning over with nerves so much so that he didn’t think he would be able to eat anything, but he at least wanted to see what the weather would be like. As he emerged from the dungeon-passage into the entrance hall, the temperature suddenly dropped. There were no fires to heat up the chilling stone in this area. Glancing out a window, Keith saw that the sky was overcast. The weather had taken a dramatic turn from the previous, sunny day.

Keith rubbed his hands together, shivering, and noticed that his breath was visible in a steamy cloud in front of him. He decided to head back downstairs and grab another jacket and hat.

*  
Keith glanced at his watch. It was 9:45. His stomach had definitely moved past butterflies and more towards dragons. Watching Pidge gulp down bowl after bowl of cereal wasn’t helping. He hadn’t been able to eat anything himself. Ever since they had come up to join him in the Great Hall, Pidge had been constantly reassuring Keith that it would be fine. He wasn’t convinced.

He had been anxiously watching for Lance to enter the Great Hall. He so far had not seen him, although assumed that he might have missed him somewhere in the crowd of excited students, all of whom were dressed in muggle clothes due to the Hogsmeade trip. Keith absent-mindedly wondered what Lance would be wearing.

Students had begun filing out. The third years were queueing to have their permission slips checked by the caretaker, Filch, but the older pupils had been on enough of these trips to be able to head straight out. His stomach-dragons reaching their most violent so far, Keith shakily rose to his feet and waved goodbye to Pidge.  
“Good luck!” They called after him, smirking.

Rubbing his hands together, half out of cold and half anxiety, Keith headed out the Great Hall, and then out the main entrance into the grounds. Almost instantly, he felt something light and cold peppering his exposed face and hands. Glancing up, he saw that the overcast sky had started to produce a light powdering of snow. It wasn’t currently enough to settle on the ground, but he saw flecks of it clinging to people’s hair and scarves. He was starting to wish he had brought a pair of gloves, and saw that his fingers were already turning red.

“Hey.” A voice came suddenly from behind him. Keith turned around so fast, he stumbled slightly on the uneven cobbled stones. Quickly righting himself, hoping no one had noticed, he looked up to see Lance stood behind him. His hands were thrust into his pockets and he looked nervous. It was one of the first times Keith had seen him wearing Muggle clothes, and not his Quidditch kit or Hogwarts robes. He wore blue skinny jeans and khaki green jacket. Flecks of snow clung to his brown hair. Keith had to stop himself from staring at them.

“Hi,” he replied, attempting a non-nervous smile.  
“So, shall we head down?” Lance asked, motioning towards the sloping path that headed towards the wizarding village. Keith nodded and they both began walking, hands in pockets.

As it always is with relatively new people, the first few minutes passed quite awkwardly. Keith desperately wanted to talk but couldn’t think of anything to say. Eventually however, Lance brought up the one thing that the pair definitely shared: Quidditch. The subject turned out to be a gold-mine. The act of discussing their favourite teams, famous games and tactics on the field took them all the way down to the village.

Keith had hardly even registered the walk down. He’d just finished telling Lance about a particularly good goal his favourite player had scored in a match last season, when he looked up and found that they were stood on the main street in Hogsmeade. Being so close to Halloween, the street was lavishly decorated. Candles with black wax hung, magically suspended in the trees. In amongst the quant, leaning little cottages swooped real, live bats. Pumpkins lay heaped on the street corner, and the faces carved into them were moving. The snow was continuing to fall, heavier and heavier still and Keith was anxious to get out of the cold for a while.

“So, where would you like to go?” Lance asked, turning to Keith.  
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t come here that often.”  
At this, Lance looked horrified. “You don’t come to Hogsmeade a lot? Why not?!”  
Keith shrugged. “Pidge doesn’t like it that much, she says it’s too busy.”  
Lance looked astonished. Keith laughed, “Well, I am feeling kind of hungry,” in reality, his stomach was rumbling loudly after his skipped-breakfast. “How about you tell me where we should go.”  
Lance’s mouth suddenly dropped open as he thought of something. “Have you ever been to Honeydukes?!”  
“No,” Keith replied. “Don’t think so. That’s the sweetshop, right?”  
Lance groaned in frustration. “Keith! It’s so much more than that! Oh my God, I have to show you,” he said his face lighting up in a grin of delighted anticipation.  
“Let’s go!” His hand whipped up and grabbed Keith by his sleeve, and began tugging him through the busy street. Laughing, Keith jogged after him, quickly reaching up to hold onto is hat with his free hand.

Lance let go of him once they reached the sweetshop. Compared to the dim, cloud-obscured daylight, the light streaming from the shop was bright and full of colour. Gleefully, Lance led him up the couple of steps, and through the front door. The warmth instantly hit Keith after the cold of outside, and he felt his cheeks flush at the temperature change. Thousands of contrasting smells instantly hit his nose in a way that was not at all unpleasant. This shop was probably the most packed in Hogsmeade. Students of all ages were crowding in droves around the shelves.

Lance watched in delight at Keith’s expression upon seeing the interior of the shop. There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets Keith had ever seen. Creamy piles of fudge, shimmering pink squares of coconut-ice, mounds of powdery lemon sherbet. Thousands of flavours of chocolate in orderly rows, barrels of pepper-imps and Fizzing Whizzbees. Keith couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d never seen this much sugar in his life. He turned to Lance who was looking smugly on his amazement.  
“I bet you regret not coming in here before now, huh?”

Keith slowly nodded. “How do you ever choose what to get?” He wondered aloud.  
“Oh trust me, I have to have a lot of self-restraint,” Lance said. “I know what we should get, though,” he said, and quickly dashed off.  
“What- hey, Lance?!” Keith called and hurried after him, pushing through the crowds of students and teachers alike. Eventually, he saw him, stood next to an impressively sized barrel of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.

“Oh, I don’t know about those…” Keith said, taking a step away from the barrel. “Can’t you get vomit flavoured ones?”  
“Ah, come on Keith, that’s part of the fun!” Lance said, taking a scoop and piling some into a paper bag. “Come on, don’t be a whimp. It’s pretty rare to get a vomit one,” he said.  
“Okay…” Keith replied. Lance laughed at the nervous look on his face.

The next hour that ensued was spent in Honeyduke’s. Keith quickly decided on some sticky, honey-coloured toffee and a bag of exploding bon-bons. Lance took longer to decide, hovering anxiously for half an hour between which flavour of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum to get. Keith eventually had to intervine and drag him to the counter, after Lance hastily decided on the blue-raspberry flavour (“it’s my favourite colour, after all”). 

After paying for their sweets, both boys headed back out of the shop. Without either of them noticing, the rate of snow-fall had picked up significantly and now it lay on the ground, around a foot deep.

“Shit!” Keith cried, his feet sinking shin-deep into the cold snow.  
“Hahahah! You’re so short!” Lance laughed, the snow coming up to barely any lower on his own legs (something Keith was quick to point out). They decided to head out of the cold by paying a visit to the village’s most famous inn, the Three Broomsticks. 

They hurried through the door, shaking snow from their dripping shoes. The interior of the Inn was decorated excessively in Halloween style. There were thick black, orange and green drapes, more floating candles and pumpkins. Thankfully no live bats inhabited this room, however.

Lance scanned the extremely packed room, eventually spotting an empty table-for-two in one corner. They both headed over to it. Keith noticed with apprehension that it was a very small, circular table, the two chairs that huddled around it squashed together. He sat down in one chair, trying to shake warmth back into his freezing ankles and feet, when Lance slid into the seat next to him. Because of the cramped space, their legs were pressed together under the table. On the one hand, Keith didn’t feel like he had to warm up his legs anymore. In fact, had the room just gotten hotter? He glanced at Lance, who was humming to himself slightly as if he hadn’t noticed anything. Keith, however, could feel every point their legs touched as if charged with electricity.

Thankfully, Madam Rosmerta soon came over to them, weaving her way through the hordes of customers towards the two boys, huddled together in their corner. She smiled at them as she approached.  
“What can I get for you boys?” She asked warmly.  
“Two butterbeers, please.” Lance quickly replied. After Rosmerta had left with their order, a silence settled between the two boys. It wasn’t as awkward as Keith thought it would be but he would still have preferred to have something to say. Casting his mind around, he realised that he knew very little about Lance’s life outside of Hogwarts. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know what Lance’s blood status was (not that it mattered, of course). Rosmerta returned, placing two sloshing pints of butterbeer down in front of them. Once both the boys were huddled around their drinks, Keith decided to speak-  
“So,” he said, shifting in his chair to face towards Lance. “Tell me about your family.” 

The change in Lance’s expression was instantaneous. His eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his face at the mention of the word ‘family’.  
“Well, I mean, I have a very big family. I have six siblings-“  
“Six?!” Keith cried. To him, who had never had any family to speak of, six siblings seemed an unfathomable amount.  
“Yeah, I know, it is quite a lot. Our house is pretty crowded.”

“Do you get on well with them?” Keith asked.  
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Lance said, nodding enthusiastically. “I mean, we argue like all siblings do, but I couldn’t live without a single one of them.  
“Tell me more about them,” Keith said leaning in to rest his face on his hands. Lance looked at him in happiness, probably surprised but glad that he was taking such an interest.

“Well, I’m the third child. I have an older brother and an older sister. My older brother, he’s the eldest, and he’s married with a son, Matty. He’s so sweet. Then there’s my older sister. She wrote to me last month to tell me she’s just got a girlfriend, who I guess I’ll meet at Christmas. Every Christmas the whole family get together at my parent’s house, it’s the best.”

Keith wondered what it would be like to go home with Lance for Christmas and meet his family. The thought made him smile. He nodded for Lance to keep going, enjoying the expression Lance held when talking about his family, sinking his chin further into his hand as he watched.

“Then there’s the fourth sibling, my sister. She’s fourteen and super smart, she wants to be an astrophysicist when she’s older, you should see the posters on her bedroom walls. Then there’s the twins, they’re only ten. They’re so funny, I bet you’ll love them… I mean, you would, that is if you ever met them I mean.” Lance finished, turning slightly red.

“Lance, your family sounds incredible.” Keith said, grinning.  
“I mean, I think we’re just a pretty ordinary family. I guess apart from the fact that one of us is a wizard.”  
“So you’re muggle-born?” Keith asked curiously.

“Yep, my whole family are muggles, ‘scept for me,” Lance replied. “I kinda miss them, and wish I could show them this place,” Lance sighed. “They always get so excited when I tell them about it.”  
Keith nodded slowly. He couldn’t really say that he understood, having no family of his own.  
“Hey, I actually have a picture of my family, if you want to see.”

“Yeah, show me!” Keith said enthusiastically. Lance slipped a hand into an inside pocket of his jacket and drew out a photograph, handing it to Keith. It was a muggle photo - the inhabitants of it were stationary. Keith saw Lance towards the middle. He recognised his mother from the Boggart, but in this photograph, she was smiling warmly. Somehow, her expression made her look utterly different from her Boggart form. Lance pointed out each family member proudly. Keith was awed at how anybody could have a family with that many people in. He wondered what it must be like.

“So, you just carry this around with you then?” Keith asked, grinning.  
Lance turned red. “Uh, yeah,” he said.  
Keith nudged him with his shoulder. “That’s really cute.”  
Lance smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, I guess. I mean, there are down sides to family though. It’s not that we don’t have much money it’s just that it’s spread so thinly amongst my big family.” Lance motioned to his jacket. “This was my older brother’s. And these jeans were my sister’s. My parent’s had to use most of their savings to buy my Hogwarts’ stuff. I mean, not that they minded but…” Lance shrugged.

Keith glanced down at their drinks in front of them. “Well, in that case, I’ll be paying for these,” Keith said.  
“No, seriously, you don’t have to do that,” Lance said quickly.  
“No, no, no,” Keith said, quickly rising to his feet. “You can’t stop me,” he said, and rushed off towards the bar, ignoring Lance’s complaints that followed him. Keith scooped a couple of galleons out of his pocket and plonked them down on the counter.

As Keith walked back, he saw that Lance was watching him, a look on his face that Keith couldn’t quite place. A small smile played about Lance’s mouth. Keith, aware of him watching him, felt a little self-conscious on his way back to the table.  
“What are you looking at me for?” He asked, sliding back into his chair. Lance shook his head, still smiling. “It’s nothing.” he said, seeming to come out of a daydream. 

“Hey, how about we try these now,” he said, and withdrew from his pocket the bag of Every Flavour Beans.  
“You’re going first!” Keith demanded, staring down at the sweets as if they were some sort of bomb.  
“You’re such a whimp,” Lance laughed, chucking a bean into his mouth. Keith watched as he chewed it thoughtfully.  
“I think it’s cinnamon…” he said slowly, after several seconds.  
“I guess that’s not so bad,” Keith said.  
“I told you! They’re not all bad- now it’s your turn.” Lance said evilly. Keith peered into the bag. After several seconds of deliberation, he eventually chose an innocent looking pale-pink one. Eyeing it with suspicion, he slowly put it into his mouth and chewed.

Almost instantly a vile taste that was unmistakably earwax exploded into his mouth. Gagging, he grabbed tightly onto Lance’s arm.  
“What flavour?!” Lance demanded, grinning.  
“Earwax!” Keith gasped, still clutching Lance’s arm. Lance began laughing hysterically, clutching his stomach as Keith forced himself to swallow.  
“Oh my god Lance, I can’t believe you made me do that!” Keith said. However, after a couple of seconds of watching Lance clutch his stomach with hysterics Keith’s anger melted and he started laughing himself. The way Lance’s eyes crinkled up when he smiled, and those dimples - they weren’t helping him to stay annoyed at all.

Lance wiped at the tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry Keith, but that’s what you get! Not my fault!” he chuckled. Keith hit him in the arm.  
“It is your fault, you made me eat it!” Keith said indignantly, although his attempt to be serious was ruined by the smile on his face.  
Lance grinned back at him, and leaned in, slowly. “Listen, I’ll make it up to you.”  
“How?” Keith asked.  
“Have you ever been up to the Shrieking Shack?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance’s descriptions of some of his family members are based off of what I remember from Dirty Laundry (which you should read if you haven’t because it’s awesome). Just in case you were thinking that some people sounded similar, that’s why.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Keith and Lance's 'date'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is another kinda short one but I have a definite idea of what to happen next so, stay tuned I guess

As soon as the door of the Three Broomsticks swung closed behind them, the cold weather was once again infiltrating Keith’s under-dressed form. It had finally stopped snowing, but it now lay thickly on the ground, at least a foot deep. It crunched underfoot as Keith and Lance began heading up the main street. Keith noted that, with snow piled on top of the thatched cottages, the village looked like a picture straight off a Christmas card. He had never had a proper chance to explore Hogsmeade - never really wanted to before now. He looked curiously at the shops as he passed, reading the names.

From one shop labelled “Zonko’s” several loud explosions were coming, and there was a sound of violent coughing. Keith saw someone hurrying towards the window from within the shop and quickly flinging it open. A lot of green, foul smelling smoke billowed out.

“You idiot, you knocked over the shelf of dung-bombs!” came the erratic yell of the shopkeeper inside. Lance chuckled, and they both sped up to escape the stench. 

“This is the only all-wizarding town in Britain. Did you know that?” Lance asked, hands in his pockets.  
“I think Pidge mentioned it, yeah. It’s amazing! I mean, I’ve never really explored it before.”

Lance jerked his head to the left, motioning for them to turn up a little street that winded off the main one. Keith followed his lead and turned, heading up it. After a few minutes walking, they soon passed a little teashop. It caught Keith’s eye because it was the only building that he had seen so far that was not decked out in Halloween decoration. Instead, the shop front was painted a garish pink. A sign above the door read ‘Madam Puddifoots’. Keith peered through a window as they passed. He saw that the café was brimming with couples, gazing at each other soppily, some kissing over their mugs of coffee. The tables were decorated with frilly doilies and pink streamers adorned the walls. A couple at a particular table caught his eye - it was Shiro, the head boy, and Allura, the head girl, staring sickeningly into each other’s eyes over their drinks. Cute, but definitely not Keith’s thing.

“Bleh!” Keith spat, quickly hurrying past the shop.  
Lance laughed. “I know right. All those couples - gross.”  
Keith had to agree. No matter how much he liked Lance, he couldn’t think of anything worse than going to the café with him, even if they did eventually become a couple. All that pink frilliness - he’d stick to the Three Broomsticks, thanks.

“The Shrieking Shack is up this hill,” Lance said, pointing up an incline that led out of the village. Keith nodded and they set off together. After several minutes climbing, Keith was panting. He was very fit - but the snow was making it difficult, and his feet kept sliding down. Lance noticed him breathing heavily and grinned.  
“Are you a Quidditch player or not?” he said, shoving Keith’s shoulder.  
“Hey! Your shoes have more grip than mine,” Keith replied moodily.  
Eventually, the two boys emerged from a patch of trees. Looking up, Keith saw the Shrieking Shack. There was a fence stopping them from moving any closer to it. It lay about a hundred meters away, on another hill. It looked to Keith, with his Muggle upbringing, like a typical fantasy haunted house. It was twisted and crooked, made of some sort of dark wood, and looked as if it might fall down any second. Even from this distance, he could hear the timber creaking ominously in the breeze.

“Of course, it isn’t really haunted,” he said, turning to Lance.  
“It so is!” Lance said in protest.  
“Uh, no! Of course it’s not!” Keith said, raising his eyebrows. Had Lance actually thought it was?  
“Then how do you explain all the sounds the villagers used to hear coming from it?” Lance asked as if Keith were stupid.

“Dumby, those weren’t ghosts! Everyone knows that now - it’s because there used to be a student here who was a werewolf - Remus Lupin. Everyone knows that! He’s famous! But when he was a student here, that potion thing, the one that makes werewolves less dangerous when they transform, ugh, I can’t remember what Pidge said it was called. But anyway, that hadn’t been invented so they used to bring him up here once a month,” Keith said, turning away from Lance to look at the building again. “What the villagers heard was the sound of him - well - being a werewolf, I guess.”

Keith finished this speech and sank into a contemplative silence. He could not imagine what it must have been like for Lupin - being an outcast, having to pretend. It was sad really - it hadn’t been his fault he was a werewolf. Keith looked back up at the Shack, imagining everything that had happened there. Of course, he hadn’t been at Hogwarts at the time, but he knew the story just like everyone else of what had happened in there about eight years ago. No one knew the specifics but everyone knew the gist of it - the famous Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin and Peter Petegrew had all been there with the mass murderer Sirius Black. His name had since been cleared of that, of course. It was so weird that that had happened so close, just in that Shack a hundred meters away-

Keith shook his head of these thoughts. He suddenly realised that Lance had been silent for a long time. He was just turning around to see what he was up to when-

SMACK!

Keith reeled backwards. Something had just collided into his face - and that something was a hard-packed ball of freezing snow. Spluttering, he quickly raised to hands to clear the cold, white powder from his eyes and mouth. Blinking until his vision cleared, he saw Lance stood several meters away, a devilishly mischievous grin on his face and a second snowball already clutched in his hand.

There was a moment of silence. Then - “Oh, it is on!” Keith yelled, quickly stooping to sweep a massive amount of snow into his glove-less hands, which were instantly freezing. It was worth it though, because the snow-ball fight that ensued was the most epic one of Keith’s life. They ran around, both getting way too into it. Lance would throw a particularly well-aimed missile and Keith dived behind a boulder, coming into a kneel after an epic forward-roll. Lance produced some similar moves, leaping behind trees, and catching snowballs mid-air to throw back towards Keith.

Keith was definitely surprised at Lance’s good aim. He wondered why he didn’t play the position of chaser on the Gryffindor team. He guessed it was good for Slytherin house that he didn’t because with this accuracy, Gryffindor would score every hoop.

Keith had no idea how long their fight lasted, but by the time they were growing tired, the sun was getting low in the sky and both of their stomachs were growling. Keith tried to conceal it from Lance, but he was shivering hard now. The adrenaline of their snowball fight had kept him from noticing, but he was drenched through with freezing snow and hadn’t been wearing very many layers in the first place.

Try as he might to hide it, Lance noticed him shivering.

“Jesus, Keith, your lips are turning blue! You don’t even have any gloves!” And before Keith could stop him, Lance took both of his hands between his own. Keith immediately felt himself blush furiously. Shit - it would be easy to tell, as his red face would stand out against his black hair and snow-covered features. Thankfully, Lance was busy bending over Keith’s hands. He was rubbing them quickly between his own. It was working- warmth was definitely spreading through Keith’s hands and arms, although he wasn’t sure that this was entirely due to Lance’s rubbing, and more to do with the fact that it was Lance doing it.

Lance raised Keith’s hands to his mouth and blew on them. Hot air gushed over his fingers, instantly warming them up even more. However, Keith decided this was maybe going a bit far, and quickly withdrew his arms, partly because he didn’t want to Lance to notice that his palms had started sweating with nerves.  
“Erm, thank you-“ he stuttered. “That’s much better.”  
Lance smiled. Okay, Keith decided. That was definitely not a platonic thing to do. Wait, was it? Agh, this was so frustrating, Keith couldn’t tell.

The silence was broken by the sound of both of their stomachs, rumbling in unison. They both snorted, and were suddenly laughing again, Lance's previous out-of-character moment forgotten.

“Come on, let’s head back up to Hogwarts for dinner. I’ll race you?” Lance said and immediately set off down the slope.  
“Why does everything have to be a competition,” Keith sighed to himself, smiling.  
“Can’t hear you! I’m already halfway there!” Lance called from down the hill. Rolling his eyes, Keith set off at a sprint after him.


	8. Chapter 8

Keith had spent that dinner throwing glances across the Great Hall to Lance, whom he noticed was talking rather angrily with a couple of his friends. It looked like they were telling him something very amusing that Lance didn’t want to hear, judging by his friend’s laughing faces and his nervous-looking one. Telling himself it wasn’t his business what Lance was up to, Keith turned back to Pidge, who had been pestering him all meal to tell them every detail of his and Lance’s day in Hogsmeade. Keith recounted the whole thing (possibly leaving out one or two aspects - namely the exact details of the Three Broomsticks date and the hand-warming ordeal. Pidge’s smirk was bad enough already).

“So… do you think you still like him?” they asked, raising one eyebrow.  
“Err… yeah,” Keith said, glancing around anxiously to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. “But, I mean, nothing happened. There were no hints that Lance meant it in more than a friendly way… I don’t think.”  
Pidge rolled their eyes. “Would it be so hard to just ask him?”  
“Yes, it would” Keith said firmly. “What if he didn’t mean it like that?” Keith rubbed one hand up his arm self-consciously. The thought made him shudder with embarrasment. “I’m not saying anything until he does. If I know that he likes me, I’ll tell him that I… you know… return the feelings. But not before.”  
Pidge rolled their eyes again, but didn’t press the subject further.

Despite what he’d just told Pidge, Keith still felt a strange urge to talk to Lance. Today had been so great - he’d almost hoped Lance would sit with him at dinner. Keith had been midly disappointed when he’d waved goodbye to go to the Gryffindor table. Keith made up his mind quickly, before he could back out. He had already eaten enough - it hadn’t taken very long as he had decided to save room for the Halloween feast the next day, which was always excellent. Despite this, he decided to wait around until Lance left. Then he would go up and talk to him - just to say goodnight, or that he’d really enjoyed the day, or something.

Keith explained this plan to Pidge.  
“Alright. I’ll see you in the common room then,” they said, smiling and hurrying out of the hall. Keith stayed alone on the bench, feeling self conscious. He watched as a large group of Gryffindor’s rose to leave from the table. After they had gone, he began scanning the bench for Lance’s familiar face.

He wasn’t there. Shit, had he been part of that big group that had left without Keith noticing? Keith quickly stood up and hurried out into the Entrance Hall. He saw the gaggle of red-and-gold wearing students climbing the marble staircase. But Lance wasn’t among them. Keith went back to the door into the Great Hall and scanned the Gryffindor table one last time. Lance definitely was not there - but Keith had seen him at dinner. He shrugged. he must have left without Keith noticing at some point. Feeling slightly dejected, Keith turned to head down the sloping, dimly lit passage towards his common room, thinking that he would have to find Lance tomorrow to speak to him. It hadn’t been very important anyway. He walked alone, the only sound breaking the silence the sound of his shoes slapping on the stone floor. 

Or was it? Keith suddenly stopped. A loud crash had just resounded, echoing around the passage. It sounded as if it had come from the passage that lead towards the potions classroom and Slughorn’s office. Keith immediately tensed. Should he ignore it? Avoid trouble and head quickly to the common room? But his curiosity got the better of him. Slipping his wand out of his pocket, he crept down the corridor towards the potions dungeons.

He reached the corridor that held the potions classroom, office and store cupboard. From inside the cupboard he could hear some muffled curse words and the sound of someone frantically trying to clean up. The voice sounded strangly familiar…

Suddenly, he heard the door to Slughorn’s office burst open. Hurriedly, he slipped backwards into the shadows behind a damp-looking pillar. He watched as the large potions Professor waddled down the corridor to the door of the cupboard, and flung it open, flooding the passage with light (though thankfully, the light did not reach Keith’s hiding spot).

There, framed against the shelves of disgusting bottled ingredients, was Lance. A few of the bottles were clutched in his hands, and a few more had smashed on the floor. He could not have looked guiltier if he tried.

Keith was shocked - what on Earth was Lance doing in Slughorn’s private store cupboard? Slughorn, it seemed, felt the same way.

“McClain?!” he yelled in surprise. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing in here?”

“Professor-“ Lance started. Apparently Slughorn, however, had not finished.

“I would never had expected it - you of all people!” he sounded livid. “Well? Explain yourself!”

“I - I’m sorry Professor,” Lance started, in a small voice. “It was just a dumb dare - stupid - I shouldn’t have-“

“A dare!” Slug horn said incredulously, glancing down at the bottles in Lance’s arms for the first time. “McClain, this looks like… were you intending on brewing a love potion?”

Keith watched, dumbfounded, as Lance nodded glumly.

“And you are aware, of course,” said Slughorn, still sounding much angrier than his usual, laid-back self, “that love potions are strictly banned at Hogwarts?”

“Professor,” Lance began again, in a pleading voice, “I’m sorry - I probably wouldn’t have gone through with - didn’t want to look like a wuss - kind of lost a bet and had to-“ Lance continued on with this awkward ramble until Slughorn held up a hand to stop him.

“And whom, may I ask, is the unlucky student you were intending to use this on?” he asked. Keith watched as Lance turned very red and mumbled something inaudibly at his shoes. “Speak up!” Slug horn barked.

“Keith Kogane,” Lance whispered. The bottom seemed to drop out of Keith’s stomach. Had he heard right? He sunk further back behind his pillar - if Lance saw him now…

Keith watched as Slughorn’s face softened slightly.  
“Ah yes… he is friends with Pidge. She’s an excellent potioneer, I can see her going into-“ but he stopped and cleared his throat. “Listen m’boy,” he said, looking much more kindly down at Lance. “If you really like Kogane, well… there are better methods of capturing his affections than love potion. Understand?”

Lance nodded, a small smile breaking his face.

“Now now,” Slughorn said, “that doesn’t mean I’m letting you off. Detention, Monday night. You can help me reorganise this cupboard,” he said, gesturing around at the many shelves. Lance nodded, looking as if he thought organising the cupboard was the least he deserved.

Slughorn clapped him on the shoulder and pushed him lightly from the store room. “Off to bed with you,” he said, a small smile on his face as he watched Lance leave. “Oh, and McClain?” he called after him. “You might do well to remind your friends that love potions are banned!”

“I will do Professor,” Lance called, and Keith heard his footsteps receding rapidly up the stairs. Once they had faded away completely, he watched as Slughorn, hands on hips, sighed and shook his head. “Adolescents…” he muttered heading back towards his office. “I don’t know…” and with a snap, the door shut behind him.

Keith’s mind was racing. What he had just witnessed was taking him a while to process. Lance had intended to make a love potion to use on him. That meant he liked him - he really liked him - why else would his friends dare him to do it? This, surely, was confirmation that Lance returned Keith’s feelings. Keith thought of Lance having a crush on him. The thought gave him a funny, slightly nervous feeling in the bottom of his stomach.

For the first time ever, Keith let himself imagine what it would be like to be Lance’s boyfriend. The two of them, studying together in the library, perhaps being invited to Lance’s home for christmas, meeting his family, taking walks down the lake on hot summer days, bottles of pumpkin juice in their hands, the two of them in-love…

Wait, love? Why had he thought of that. He wasn’t in love with Lance, that was ridiculous. He just liked him. Quite a lot. And found himself thinking about him sometimes. In lessons. During meals and Quidditch practice. And now he knew that Lance felt the same way…

Realising that he was still stood behind a pillar in the potions corridor, and that Slughorn could return at any minute, Keith pulled himself together, and hurried back towards the Slytherin common room, his mind in utter turmoil.


End file.
